


Testing Fate

by wearebellarke



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Endgame Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, F/M, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, always endgame for bellarke in my fics, children to adults, okay i lied it's not all fluffy..., starts out fluffy then smutty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 17:44:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4929121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearebellarke/pseuds/wearebellarke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He hated her the moment she stepped into his life. She hated him for judging her only as the Governor's daughter. Yet, he touched her like a secret, and she all but let him silence her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Testing Fate

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this story has been planned for like a couple hours, so I immensely apologies for any mistakes or the lack of creativity. Nonetheless, it's an AU fic in which I hope you enjoy. If so, leave a little cookie behind? Or even a crumb? :D xx

She remembered the first time she met Bellamy Blake. It was her first day at her new private school, and her mother made her wear the periwinkle blue dress she got for her tenth birthday. She held tight on her father’s hand as they got out of their private limo. The Governor’s daughter; Clarke Griffin. Stamped and labeled the moment one of the older kids had announced it. She squeezed her father’s hand as the staring increased, desperately trying to think of something to ease how uncomfortable she felt.

When they met the principle of Ark, Thelonious Jaha, he laid a hand on her shoulder and smiled in kindness. Clarke knew she could trust the man, as he was her father’s best friend. His son, Wells, stood beside him; chubby cheeks and eyes that sparkled with happiness. It never occurred to Clarke how much they might have in common, but Wells didn’t judge her or treated her any different than how a human being should. He held his hand out before her and shook hers gently.

They toured around the campus, and Wells made polite conversation (as much as an eleven year old could).

“The food here is good,” he said, and pointed to the double glass doors that led to the cafeteria of polished chairs and tables. The smell of roasted vegetables and mashed cauliflower hit Clarke like a rainstorm.

“What’s your favourite thing to eat?” Clarke asked.

“Stir-fry. They make it good here. Wait until high school. I once went there with my dad and the place was so biiiiiiiig!”

Clarke’s eyes widened. “Bigger than ours?”

Wells nodded with enthusiasm. “And then there’s the College campus.”

“Wow,” Clarke said, and twined her fingers together as she tried to picture what Wells explained to her. “It could be a palace!”

“I always wanted to be a knight in shinning armor.”

Clarke laughed as Wells flexed his arms.

“Well, I wanna be a knight in shinning armor, too!”

Wells cheeks looked like apples when she told him, and Clarke could only laugh some more. “You can be my best friend,” Wells said.

Clarke looked down at her feet, her cheeks warmed at the mention. “I’ve never had a best friend before.”

“Always a first!”

Principle Jaha led them outside to the playground, and Clarke could smell the different flowers, and picture the colours in her head without having to look at them. She itched for some paper and pencils, but her hands stayed by her side, and soaked up what her hungry eyes saw once she opened them.

“Can we play?” Wells asked his father, his tiny voice filled with excitement.

Jaha thought for a moment. “Will you accompany Clarke back inside my office?” Wells nodded. “Five minutes.”

For Clarke, five minutes felt like five hours. She grabbed Well’s hand, and together they shot straight to the empty swing set.

“Don’t get your clothes dirty!” her father called. “Your mother won’t be happy.”

But the caution of getting her clothes dirty went out the window as soon as she sat on the leather seat. With her back facing her principle and father, Wells pushed her, and Clarke went flying in the air.

“Higher,” she said, her voice hitting a high note as Wells complied. “Higher, higher, come on!”

It was only when he went higher did Clarke noticed a gate that separated a playground. She called for Wells to stop, and didn’t pay attention to the sound of his teasing. Clarke ran through the tall, clean trees and mowed grass to the grey, spiral gate with Wells right behind her, calling for her to stop.

Rust painted her fingertips when she curled them around the wire, and she wiped them on her dress without a momentary thought.

“What’s this place?” she asked once her best friend stopped to steady his breath.

“That's the other Ark school.”

Clarke scanned the dusty and dulled place. The swings weren’t as shiny and big as theirs, and the red paint on their slide was pealing off. They had no flushing green grass, except for brown bark and rocks. A red scrunchy laid before on them, closer to her feet, where dandelions bloomed. Majority were seed heads, and Clarke watched with a new perspective as the wind grasped the seeds in their embrace and carried them through the metal gate.

“It’s not colourful, or big like ours” she said. “I wonder what it’s like over there.”

She saw a little girl coming out behind a door; hair braided into a pigtail with purple ribbon. She wore a pink t-shirt with a unicorn on it and jeans that looked a size too big on her. She looked upset, almost on the verge of tears as a taller boy with dark brown shaggy hair followed her out. He looked older than her, like in high school older, but their features were strikingly similar.

Clarke’s little fingers held on as she watched them. They didn’t wear clothes like what her mother buys her; theirs looked old, second-hand bought. Nothing expensive or branded. She smiled at how worn out they were; easy to get dirty in. They had no worry about getting dirty and playing in the sandpit. From the looks of it, their parents didn’t seem to mind. There was a stain on the boy’s white t-shirt.

“O, we need to go home. You’re still sick,” the boy said, and he crossed his arms at the little. His eyes weren’t as hard but they looked concerned.

“But I have to find it, Bell.”

“You lost it Friday. It’s Monday. It’s gone.”

The little girl, O, stamped her foot. “No, it’s not. I just have to keep looking...”

O coughed all of a sudden, and the boy, Bell, quickly embraced her. The tough persona fell as soon as he heard the girl cough. Clarke felt upset. Her mother had plenty of medicine at home, ones that made the sickness go away after two days, maybe she can convince her to lend her some for the girl.

The bell rang.

Wells jumped from surprise. O and Bell must’ve heard it, because they both looked towards Clarke and Wells, startled.

Clarke waved.

O eventually did, too.

Bell’s face turned sour, almost in disgust. Clarke stopped waving at the hatred that reflected in his eyes, like she was the one to blame for O’s coughing. Her throat tightened, blocking the air that she needed. 

_"Spoiled child!"_

_"Daddy's little princess."_

_"She's so up herself. Look at her!"_

_"I hate her."_

“Let’s go,” Bell growled, and walked O out of the building.

“That boy was mean,” Well’s said. “Come on, it’s been five minutes.”

Clark looked at the door where Bell and O came and went, to the deserted playground, to the red scrunchy on the ground. On instinct, Clarke picked the dirty object up, cutting her finger from the sharp corner of the metal wire, before she sprinted off after Wells, the hatred in Bell’s eyes so vivid in her head it almost caused her to fall.

 

* * *

Her mother was mad she dirtied her dress and hurt herself on her first day of school, but she was happy to know she made friends with Wells Jaha. That night they went over to the Jaha’s house and shared a meal together. Wells and Clarke played as knights and versed each other on Well’s new PlayStation.

She went to sleep with happy memories, and dreamed about the girl and the boy.

 

* * *

On her second day of school, Wells introduced her to his friends; Nathan Miller, a boy whose father was just as popular, Roma Valentine, daughter of a professor in the College campus, and Mia Vie, daughter of respectable and kind parents. They quickly embraced her as a member of their group, and during recess, asked her to play with them.

“What should we do first?” Roma asked, swinging her body around on the swing bar.

“Hide and seek?” Nathan pointed at Wells. “You can find us.”

“I’m always tagged,” Wells said, but he didn’t look upset about being picked. Clarke thought he kind of liked it.

“Count to twenty,” Mia reminded him. “We run when you close your eyes first.”

As soon as Wells closed his eyes and began counting, Clarke bolted towards the trees in the furthest distance. Her school dress with the Ark’s crest felt heavy, clunky, and restricted her from running. All she wanted to do was tug it off and feel the wind wash over her. But rules were rules, as her mother said. She’d have to bear it.

Clarke ducked where the trees cast a shadow, blocking any light and protecting her from being seen. Sh heard Wells call out twenty, and her body stilled with adrenaline. She wondered how long it’ll tack for Wells to find her.

Clarke looked to the left of her, and saw how close she was to the gate. A small patch of sun landed in the area where she could easily watch the kids from the next school, but that would mean exposure, and she didn’t want to be found so quickly into the game.

She heard coughing and the sound of footsteps crunching in the dry bark and grass. Clarke leaned closer to the sunlight and saw jeans a size too big on a girl with brown braided hair. She coughed again and mumbled to herself.

Footsteps stopped and mumbled turn to whimpering. Clarke crawled to the gate where O was pressed against, crying onto her knees.

Clarke stretched her fingers around the metal wire of the gate. “Hello?”

O turned to the sound of Clarke, her wide, hazel-green eyes catching the blue of Clarke’s. She looked away and continued to cry. Clarke wanted to reach over and pat her head, and tell her everything would be okay. She called out to O again, and this time the tears stopped.

“Hi,” O replied.

“What are you crying for?”

O sniffed and touched her wrist. “My hair tie. Mummy made it for me for my birthday and I lost it.”

“Really? What did it look like?”

“Red,” O said, “and fluffy.”

Clarke smiled. The scrunchy she found was in her bag. “I know where it is.”

O turned so sharply at her words, the red that stained her eyes left in almost an instant, and a smile brightened up her face. She grabbed the metal wires, and brought herself closer to where Clarke was. “Where is it?”

Clarke prepared herself for the anger the girl might give her. “In my bag. I saw it yesterday near the fence. I didn’t know it was yours. It’s pretty.”

But O wasn’t mad she took the scrunchy. She clapped her hands and squealed with glee, louder than Clarke would’ve liked. In a matter of seconds, Wells burst in and tapped Clarke.

“Found you!” He didn’t wait for Clarke to respond when he dashed off, and called out for Roma to come out.

Both girls were surprised Wells didn’t notice O was there, or maybe the small Jaha didn’t care.

“I have to go,” Clarke said. They matched a pout each.

“When can you give me the hair tie back?”

“Lunch time,” Clarke said.

O frowned. “I’m going home at lunch. My brother is picking me up to see the doctor so I can get better.”

“My mummy is a doctor,” Clarke said, feeling the rust under her fingers as she leaned closer. “She’s really good. She can help you get better.”

“Can I see her?”

“Yes. I can call my daddy to come pick us up.”

O’s fingers gripped Clarke’s. “You can? Won’t you get in trouble?”

“Why would I? We’re friends. Daddy will understand.”

 

* * *

Clarke faked a cough and the nurse called Jake Griffin to come and pick her up. Her nanny, Anya, came instead, and before they left, Clarke asked for her friend to come with them, too. Clarke knew she could get Anya to do anything for her, so when they saw O with the Bell boy, Clarke was convinced this would work.

“Are you ready?” Clarke asked O, just as Bell glared at her and asked O who she was.

“My friend,” O said. “She’s taking me to see a doctor.”

Bell massaged his temples, and up close, Clarke could see the freckles that decorated his face. “Octavia, you don’t ask stranger to take you to see a doctor. What were you thinking? What would Mum say if she knew about this?”

Before Octavia replied, Clarke reached inside her backpack and retrieved the red scrunchy. Octavia hugged her just as she coughed. Bell pulled Octavia away, his neck turning red. “Cover your mouth!”

Anya’s hand gripped Clarke’s shoulder. The fear in Clarke took over her features for a moment, before she composed herself in front of Anya. “You’re mother is not going to be very happy about this.”

“I’m vaccinated,” Clarke said. “I don’t get sick easily.”

Anya’s mouth twisted, and Clarke knew that Anya knew the call was just a way of getting out of class. Clarke looked up at her nanny, eyes going wide with hoe, and whispered, “Please, please, pleeeeeeeease take her to Mummy. Please Anya, pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease--”

Octavia coughed more violently this time. Bell pressed her against his chest and allowed Octavia to cough all over him. Clarke could only watch in despair.

Anya sighed. “I’ll be fired by tonight.”

“No you won’t. No one else can stand my tantrums. Mummy’s not that silly.”

Anya looked at Bell. The boy’s eyes widened, in hope or fear, Clarke wasn’t sure, but her nanny shook her hand. “Nice to meet you...”

“Bellamy. Bellamy Blake, miss.”

“Anya,” her nanny replied, “Clarke Griffin’s nanny.”

At the mention of her name, Bellamy looked almost sick himself. He glanced at Clarke and back at Anya, mortification all over his face. “I’m so sorry for this...my sister can be handful, but our local doctors can take care of her. Thank you for your help, I'll take it from here.”

“Mr Blake, my job is to make sure Miss Griffin is well looked after. She wants to help your sister, and I must obey with whatever Miss Griffin desires. So, if you would please step inside the car so we can make our way to Mrs Griffin’s clinic, we can end this faster and go back to our lives.”

Bellamy scratched the back of his head. “We have no money to pay.”

“Think of this as a friend helping out her friend.”

 

* * *

Bellamy was silent on the way to the clinic and when they left, but Clarke couldn’t feel bad about his embarrassment. Octavia was going to get better.

 

* * *

She wasn’t allowed to have dessert and was told to be put in bed at nine.

Her father came in, kissed her forehead, and sat by her bed.

“You’re a good girl, Clarke. Too good.”

Clarke fidgeted with her blankets. “Is Mummy mad at me?”

He shook his head. “Mummy only worried about you.”

“I was only thinking she needed help. And she’s my friend.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. You chose to help someone less fortunate than you. That can be very brave and very dangerous.”

Clarke frowned. “Why?”

“Because the world isn’t like you, sweetheart. But don’t worry about that. You do what you feel is right in your heart. If your conscience is clear by the end of the day, then you did the right thing. You understand, right?”

Clarke nodded. “Mummy told me what conscience means.”

Jake laughed and Clarke joined him until the room fell silent, and Clarke drifted off to sleep with her father smoothing her blonde hair back.

 

* * *

Despite the gate between them, Clarke and Octavia remained great friends, best friends. Octavia introduced her to a girl named Raven Reyes, and two boys named Monty Green and Jasper Jordan. Clarke introduced them to her friends, too, and everyday up until high school, everyone came to the gate to play and talk.

 

* * *

Clarke saw Bellamy every one in a while, but the young teenager rarely said hello. Clarke knew he didn’t like her, and that made her not like him either.

When Clarke turned twelve, she invited Octavia, Raven, Monty and Jasper, along with her fellow classmates from her own school to her house to celebrate. They played games, ate cake, and danced to the top 40 on the music charts. When it was time to go home, her father allowed for Wells and Octavia to stay the night.

A month after her birthday, Clarke waited outside the school with Anya and two security guards for Octavia. She had a gift for the young Blake, and she wanted to witness the look on her face personally.

Bellamy came out of the school with Octavia be his side. Without telling her brother, she ran to Clarke and hugged her. Clarke pretended she didn’t see Bellamy.

“This is for you,” Clarke said, handing over the small silver box with a purple ribbon.

Octavia’s cheeks turned red as she cupped the box. “What is it?” she asked in wonder.

“Open it!”

“Now?”

“Yeah.”

Octavia undid the purple ribbon and tucked it in her pocket. Clarke knew she loved that colour.

The silver box opened and Octavia gasped at the little jewel shinning from the sunlight. “It’s so shinny! Is it real?”

“Yep. I thought you could attach it to the scrunchy your mum made for your birthday. That way you can’t lose it anymore.”

“That’s not how it works,” Bellamy muttered, arms crossed as he stared at the jewel. Clarke’s mouth thinned out in a sharp line. Bellamy noticed, and a small smirk etched on his own mouth. “Octavia, what do you say?”

Octavia didn’t say anything but hugged Clarke again, but longer this time. Neither girls let go until Bellamy rested a hand on his sister’s shoulder.

“Say your goodbyes, Mum’s waiting for us.”

Octavia reached out and grasped Clarke’s hand. “Can she come with us, too?”

Bellamy opened his mouth, but closed it just as quickly. Clarke’s gut already knew what he was going to say, and it made her dislike him more.

Octavia had always tried to invite Clarke over, but school or her mother or even Bellamy got in the way. It did little to upset the girls because Jake always invited Octavia over when he got to pick Clarke up from school.

Bellamy ran is hand down his face. “Another time Octavia.”

“Please, Bell?”

Anya’s hand turned Clarke around with the same tight expression she always wore on her face. “Ask Octavia if she’s not busy to come over on the weekend.”

Except Octavia heard and that caused the little Blake to start a tantrum. “Why can’t she come over? She never comes over. Don’t you love me anymore?”

Bellamy knelt down in front of her, a gentle smile on his face. For a moment, Clarke forgot why she didn’t like him at all. Up close she could see how the freckles scattered all over his face, and that the colour of his eyes were a soft brown. His eyelashes were thicker, and it made his eyes look big and innocent and...

Her finger itched for paper.

“How about on the weekend? Instead of you coming over, she’ll come over.”

Octavia looked at her brother carefully. “What day on the weekend?”

“Sunday.”

Octavia gasped. “But that’s mum’s birthday.”

“What better way to celebrate it.” He looked at her with the same wide eyes, as if he forgot who saw was and why he hated her, and Clarke felt her knees shake a little. “What do you say?”

She didn’t wait for Anya to answer. “Okay.”

 

* * *

She rang the doorbell of a small house with the number 53. Bellamy answered the door with Octavia by his side, smiling so wide, Clarke could see where her tooth had fallen out.

Bellamy stood up straighter and appeared to be looking formal. Clarke couldn’t help but smirk. At least when it came to her parents he wasn’t such a jerk.

“Mrs Griffin...”

“Abigail, please,” her mother said, smiling in kindness. She shook his hand and asked his name. “Bellamy Blake,” he said.

“It nice to meet you, Bellamy. And you must be Octavia.”

“Yes!”

Her mother handed a birthday bag to Octavia, and said, “This is for your mother.”

The Blake sibling’s eyes widened in unison. Clarke wished she could capture the moment. “Thank you,” Octavia said, bowed, and went inside calling for her mother.

Bellamy cleared his throat and nodded at Abigail. “Thank you, but you didn’t have to buy her anything.”

“Clarke was the one who wanted the gift, I’m just here to deliver it.”

“Bellamy?” A woman who looked like the older version of Octavia stood beside him at the front door, her brown eyes taking in the fact the Governor’s wife and daughter was standing on her porch. The woman flustered. “Oh, excuse me, please, come inside. Would you like some refreshments? A snack? I’m Aurora, Aurora Blake.”

Her mother shook her hand. “Abigail Griffin. I’m here to drop off Clarke. Unfortunately the clinic doesn’t wait for no one.”

Then why did you come? Clarke wanted to ask.

“Of course,” Aurora said. “I understand. I just want share my gratitude with treating my daughter. If it weren’t for you, we’ll still be on the waiting list.”

Her mothers grip on her shoulder tightened. “Anything for Clarke’s friend. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll say my goodbye’s and let you be on your way. Happy birthday.” Clarke felt the turn before she knew she was being led away, but she didn’t miss the appreciation in Aurora’s eyes, or how lost Bellamy seemed.

“Bellamy, wait until Clarke comes in. I have to check on the food.”

Her mother handed her blue bag of essentials. “Remember to ask for permission, and wash your hands before you eat. And please, please be mindful of your clothes. Try not to get them dirty.”

Clarke nodded. “Can I go now?”

Her mother held her face and kissed her forehead. “Call Anya if you need anything. I’m staying the night at the clinic.”

She didn’t say goodbye to Clarke, or waited until she was inside her car, but Clarke paid no attention to that minor detail. She was happy to see Octavia again. She was happy her parents let her go.

Clarke walked up the porch towards the parted door where Bellamy still stood waiting. He made a gesture, and with sarcasm dripping off his tongue, muttered, “Welcome, princess.”

Let’s just say Clarke was happy her mother didn’t witness the tongue she shot at Bellamy.

 

* * *

The dinning light glowed dimmer than what Clarke was used to at home. In a small, round table fit for three, Clarke shared a small roast with the Blake's. She could barely look at Bellamy during dinner, not after the awkward confrontation they had about a chair. 

A chair.

Her father would laugh and tell her she knew better, but there was something about her that irked Bellamy in the wrong way. She could bet the diamond necklace her mother bought that it was because she was born privileged and he wasn't. Petty, but true. Maybe he's jealous.

It wasn't like she asked to be the Governor's daughter.

"So Clarke, what do you like to do for fun?"

Bellamy scoffed. "Besides running around shopping all day?" 

Aurora's mouth opened in shock, and Octavia tried not to laugh. Clarke joined her, but not out of humour.

"I do like shopping," Clarke said, biting into her spud potato smothered in sour cream. "I mostly paint."

"In what periods?" Bellamy asked.

Clarke stared right back at him, adrenaline coursing through her like an arrow. "Magic surrealism, modern art."

"Frida Khalo?"

"Sure." She cleared her throat at Aurora's wide eyed excitement. "I'm not that great, but I know things. Vincent van Gogh is my idol."

Bellamy cut his chicken but eyed her with criticism, as if he were trying to pick apart what she said. Clarke suppressed grinning and instead continued to chew her potato.

Aurora wiped her mouth with a napkin. "You know, Bellamy wants to study History of Mythology when he graduates."

"Mum," Bellamy muttered, but Aurora chatted further, ignoring her son's obvious discomfort.

"He'll be seventeen in July."

A giddy feeling spread inside Clarke. "Cancer sign?"

Bellamy shrugged. "Yeah? What of it?"

But Clarke had her attention back to Aurora. "I have some books about Greek Gods at home. Limit additions, I think. Do you want them?"

Aurora pressed her hand to her heart and glanced between her and Bellamy in happiness. "Bellamy would love that!"

"No! No, I don't."

"With graduation coming soon, we'll be hoping to hear back from his college applications. Once he gets in, that's when his life begins."

Clarke didn't know what she meant, not at her age, but Aurora had an almost sad smile printed on her face as she sliced into her vegetables, so it must be something personal. 

"What about you, Octavia? What do you wanna be when you grow up?"

"A model," she said, glee swept all over her face. "I think it'll be fun--"

"No," Bellamy said, fist against the table, hard eyes on his little sister. "You're still young, you'll know what you want to do once you get in high school."

Aurora rested a hand on Bellamy's arm, and he responded exactly like a mamma boy would. 

"Sorry mum."

Clarke refused to choke on her drink, but the little cough didn't go past Bellamy. Words weren't exchanged. The glare shared between them stood for the battles they would have to endure until the day either could walk away.

But Clarke's a fighter, and the hatred that fueled him when he saw her was the only beginning. 

 


End file.
